


In the Shadows

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Other, Spark of Silver Challenge 2020, The Moon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: Following the end of the second Wizarding War, Draco has been left feeling empty and without purpose. He worries he will stagnate forever. But some advice from a former rival might just be the catalyst he needs to move on with his life.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12
Collections: Spark of Silver





	In the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SparkofSilver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SparkofSilver) collection. 



> **Prompt:** The Moon is a reminder that no matter what phase I am in, I am whole.
> 
> All canon characters, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Thank you to my beta for their time and work on this story.

It was the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Draco was trying to decide if he was doing the right thing. He had recently received an invitation to attend the memorial from McGonagall herself but agonised for almost a week over whether or not to accept. He wanted to go but feared the reception that potentially awaited him. 

Although Draco had ultimately been pardoned for his deeds during the war, life since Voldemort’s downfall had been… difficult. Many people believed that he and his father should have been sent to Azkaban and left there to rot. The first few months after the trial, none of the Malfoys had been able to leave their homes for fear of being attacked, leaving them effectively under house arrest. Eventually, as Voldemort’s most violent and fanatical supporters were apprehended, tried, and sentenced, the vitriol directed at the Malfoys faded into contempt. Though they continued to be ostracised, the threats and attacks gradually ceased. 

Draco had not been terribly bothered by the solitude; in fact, he rather welcomed it. Better to be treated as if he didn’t exist than to be publicly reviled and abused. His father, however, had struggled. Used to being a powerful, influential, and commanding man, Lucius had fallen into a depression and no longer left the house, sometimes not rising from his bed for days on end. It caused Narcissa to despair, and the miasma of hopelessness that gradually descended over the manor like a thick, choking fog made Draco long for escape.

But where would he escape to? His few remaining friends were busy trying to rebuild their own lives, and everyone else he knew wanted nothing to do with him. He had no job prospects or opportunities, and Merlin knew he had tried. Draco had cautiously applied for several Potioneer apprenticeships, but all of the masters offering the positions had rejected him, despite the fact he had excelled in the subject while at Hogwarts. 

At times, he wished he had returned as an eighth year to continue his final year of schooling, but he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to re-enroll when the first term had commenced. The idea of walking the halls again, among people who hated him and where so many had died, was just too daunting.

Strangely enough, the thing that had finally convinced him to accept McGonagall’s invitation to the memorial was an unexpected owl from old scarhead himself.

_Malfoy,_

_Headmistress McGonagall says you haven’t responded to her invitation to attend the memorial. Stop moping about in that big ugly house of yours and accept. Hermione and I didn’t testify on your behalf and save your arse so you could waste your life being a hermit._

_Potter_

Draco had grinned wryly at the letter. _Same old Potter, rushing in to be the hero._ After tapping the parchment thoughtfully against his knee for a few moments, he had summoned the invitation from McGonagall. Yes, he would attend. Calling for his owl, he had quickly sent the reply before he could change his mind. No sooner had she flown out the window and into the pale blue sky that doubt started to creep in.  
  


As the date approached, Draco had become more and more anxious, but he also felt a sense of giddy anticipation. It had been so long since he had been among other people, been a part of something. Part of him was dreading the event because he feared confrontation and wasn’t sure he even remembered how to socialise with other people. Yet, he was so starved for someone other than his parents and the house elves to talk to that he was prepared to risk the things he feared. Had he made the right decision? He honestly didn’t know. All he did know was that if he stayed in the manor with his parents for too much longer, he was in danger of going mad.

The second of May, 1999, dawned bright and clear. It was a perfect autumn morning, crisp but beautiful. It almost seemed inappropriate, given the events that had occurred a year previously. Even though the memorial wasn’t scheduled to begin until late afternoon, Draco had been awake since dawn and spent most of the day pacing in his room. As the time to depart neared, he became more and more convinced that he should just stay home. He was broken, he was a nobody, an outcast, he had been so isolated this past year that he wasn’t sure he could handle being in a crowd - and the crowd was sure to be huge. The anxiety felt like a giant sitting on his chest. It was no use, he couldn’t do it. He would just—

Draco glanced over at his dresser, where he had left the letter from Potter. Moving across the room, he picked up the missive and read through it, quickly at first, then more slowly. It was that last line that his eyes kept coming back to. _Hermione and I didn’t testify on your behalf so you could waste your life being a hermit._

Granger. He thought of her - punching him in the face in third year, at the Yule Ball in fourth year, her ferocity leading up to and during the final battle, how fiercely she always fought for what she believed in, and how she had proved him, and many others, wrong about her blood status. He had never really apologised to her. Not properly. But today, that could— _would—_ change. With swift, sure motions, Draco threw his cloak about his shoulders and departed the manor, determined to try and make things right.

  
When he arrived just outside the school grounds, Draco kept the hood of his cloak up, trying his best to blend in with the crowd moving towards the castle. He listened to the murmurs of quiet conversation around him. While he found the close proximity of bodies around him intimidating, the sounds of their voices soothed him. How nice it was just to _hear_ other people again!

As he approached the gates, he saw Hagrid greeting the attendees and giving them directions. “Those of yeh’ that are giving speeches, there’s seats near the front reserved for yeh’. Head t’ the Black Lake, you’ll see the marquee, yeh’ can’t miss it.” The half giant’s eyes roved in his direction and, to Draco’s consternation, landed right on him. “ _Malfoy!_ Yeh’ made it! The Headmistress’ll be right pleased!” he called, waving frantically.

“Hello, Hagrid,” he said as he approached the groundskeeper. “It’s good to see you.” Draco glanced about warily, trying to gauge the reactions of those around him. Thankfully, no one confronted him, though the people who had previously been walking near him now gave him a wide berth.

“It’s good t’ see yeh too, Malfoy. Keep yer chin up, yeh hear?” Hagrid clapped Draco on the back, almost knocking him to the ground in the process. Draco nodded his thanks and carried on into the grounds. 

He made his way slowly towards the Black Lake, taking time to let his gaze rove over the castle and lawns. The memories, good and bad, flowed through him as he walked, bringing him a sense of nostalgia but also a hollow and empty feeling. The whole war had been so _senseless_ . Before Voldemort returned, Draco had been happy. He had also been a colossal twat, granted, but life had been full of simple pleasures. Now, he didn’t know _what_ the future held for him or if things would ever feel normal again.

Draco continued towards the spot where the marquee had been erected. He hovered nervously just outside, hesitant to take a seat. Maybe he would just stand to the side. After all, there would almost certainly be more attendees than there were chairs, so it made sense that some people would need to gather outside, and he might as well be one of them.

“Alright, Malfoy?”

Draco turned cautiously, then allowed himself a small smirk. “Potter.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” the bespectacled boy said, stepping forward to shake Draco by the hand.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted. “But you were clearly pining for my company, and I didn’t want to break your heart by not showing up.”

“Sod off,” Potter said gruffly, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his true reaction to the friendly jibe. He looked at his feet, then back up at Draco. “Look, a few of us are going to have a drink to the fallen later, up in the astronomy tower. You should come.”

Draco balked. “I—I can’t. Not there. Not after—”

“You didn’t do it,” Potter said softly. “You didn’t kill him. Snape did.”

“But only because I couldn’t!” Draco argued desperately. “I don’t deserve to be up there. And I’m sure whoever else goes up there will feel the same.”

“Some of them might,” Potter agreed. “But you need to face your demons, Malfoy. You can’t hide from them forever.”

“Yes I can,” Draco replied obstinately. “Maybe being a hermit wouldn’t be so bad, after all.”

Potter rolled his eyes and huffed. “Look, just come, okay?”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” he nodded towards the podium where McGonagall was ascending the steps. “Looks like it’s starting.”

“Merlin’s balls. I better get back. I’m expected to speak,” Potter said, somewhat resentfully, and hurried away. 

The sun was setting as McGonagall welcomed everyone, casting a golden glow over the grounds and making the lake’s surface shine. After her short speech, Potter spoke briefly, barely able to be heard over the almost continuous applause and cheers. Draco snorted in disgust at the open adulation for the Golden Boy. He did, however, feel a pang of sympathy as his former rival looked like he would rather be wrestling the giant squid than talking to the crowd. 

The rest of the memorial was filled with more speeches, dedications, and pledges to move forward. By the time the last speaker had descended the podium and everyone had begun to make their way to the Great Hall for refreshments, Draco was sorely in need of a stiff drink.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to stare into the face of a blond, blue-eyed boy he didn’t recognise. “Coming for that drink?” he asked Draco quietly.

Draco furrowed his brow, looking closely at the boy’s features. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Potter?” he whispered.

The boy winked conspiratorially at him. “Glamour charm. Hermione taught me. She’s quite good at them.” 

“I’ll bet she is,” Draco muttered, smirking. “I thought you loved the spotlight.”

“I _hate_ it,” Potter insisted, scowling. “I can’t go anywhere without being mobbed. If I didn’t use a Glamour charm, I’d never get any bloody peace.”

“Why not Polyjuice yourself as me?” Draco suggested with a snort. “No one will go anywhere near you.”

Potter laughed sympathetically. “I just might take you up on that offer some time. Now come on. Have a drink with us, I insist.”

Draco considered. “Why the hell not.”

He and Potter walked silently through the castle until they reached the place that had haunted Draco’s dreams since sixth year. He stopped at the bottom of the spiral stairs, his feet suddenly not wanting to move any further. 

“Give me a minute,” he said. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself upwards. When he reached the top, he saw many of the students who had been members of Dumbledore’s Army and a few others he only faintly recognised. The chatter that had been filling the space died down as they noticed him, leaving a tense silence in its wake. 

“Right, everyone. I invited Malfoy up here to have a drink with us. Do me a favour and keep your wands to yourselves,” Potter said.

“What about our fists?” Finnegan called out. “Do we need to keep those to ourselves?”

“Yes,” Potter replied firmly. He summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses, pouring Draco and himself a drink. “A toast,” he called. Everyone raised their glasses.

“To the fallen, may they rest in peace,” he continued.

“The fallen!” the group chorused. 

“The fallen,” Draco echoed.

The conversation gradually started up again, the group easily moving about, merging into ever-changing huddles of three, four, and five. Draco stood awkwardly to one side, watching. He wanted to try and join in but didn’t feel like he ought to. He didn’t feel like he belonged - he might never truly belong again. Sighing, he wandered over to the far side of the tower and leaned his arms on the railing, staring up at the crescent Moon, allowing his thoughts to wander.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The soft voice beside him made Draco jump. 

Turning, he gulped nervously. “Granger.”

“Malfoy,” came the reply.

“Granger, I—” he paused, fiddling with his glass and trying to think of what to say next as she looked up at him. Draco thought back to his earlier determination to make amends and decided this was as good a time as any. The perfect time, actually, considering her willingness to approach him. 

“I— I want to apologise— For everything. The way I treated you, the awful things I called you, the— I know nothing I say can ever undo all the pain I caused you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I just want you to know I’m truly, truly sorry for being such a shitty person.” He took a deep breath, waiting anxiously to see how she would react.

Instead of responding immediately, Granger looked up at the Moon again, seeming to absorb his words as she stared out at its bright, silvery glow.

“You’re struggling with how much your life has changed,” she stated. “Everything you thought you knew was turned upside down, and you don’t know what your place in the world is anymore.”

“I feel like I don’t belong,” Draco agreed after a moment. “Like I’m in limbo, and I’ll be stuck this way forever.”

“You won’t be stuck this way forever,” she replied. “You feel like part of you is missing now, but it’s still there. It’s just...hidden in the shadows.”

“I don’t quite follow,” Draco said, frowning slightly as he tried to make sense of her words.

“You think you’re in limbo, but you’re not, Malfoy. You’ve grown. You’ve just shown me that,” Granger explained. "Your willingness to apologise for your past wrongs shows you’re trying to move forward with your life. And you will. You’ll have your bad days, but things will get better.”

“How do you know?” Draco asked softly. “How can you be so sure, Granger?”

She nodded towards the inky black sky. “Right now, we can only see part of the Moon. It looks like a piece is missing. But it’s not. It’s still there, in—”

“—in the shadows,” Draco finished, now understanding what she was trying to say.

“Yes,” Granger nodded. “The Moon is a reminder that no matter what phase I’m in, I am whole. On the days where I feel like a part of me is gone forever, I go and stand outside at nightfall and see what phase the moon is in. I find it comforting.”

“That’s a good philosophy,” he said. “Thank you for sharing it.”

“Thank _you_ for apologising,” she replied. “And for not expecting immediate forgiveness. I’ll admit I’m not fully ready to do that yet, but I think one day I’ll be able to.”

“That’s more than I deserve,” Draco replied with a sardonic smile.

“I know,” Granger smirked.

“Hermione!” someone called from further inside the tower.

“Be right there, Ron!” she called back. Smiling apologetically, she turned to go. “See ya, Malfoy,” she said softly.

“See ya, Granger.”

Draco resumed staring up at the crescent Moon, Granger’s words running through his head. _No matter what phase I’m in, I am whole_. She was beginning to heal. He thought that maybe, sometime soon, he could begin to heal, too.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> S&R: CRW (Constructive Reviews Welcome).


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